Molly's Lament

It was time to get up, early morning. The brain sent a warning signal to lower back, where the bad, bad, bad osteoarthritis thrived -- get ready, she is stirring and will be struggling to arise in a few moments. Lower back replied -- we are doing all we can down here; we are as ready as we can be, under the circumstances.


I got to my feet with the help of a handhold on the bookshelf. The foot with the ripe gout reminded me -- cradle me, I can't make it by myself. Clinging to the wall, the floor lamp, the door (something substantial at last), all three of us -- me, my back, and my throbbing appendage -- made it to the bathroom. I hobbled into the dining room my husband Dick already occupied. He began a litany of complaints: his sinus was killing him, he got very little sleep or no sleep at all during the night, the paper had not been delivered when he got up, and it was cold, really cold this morning, raining to boot, and...


The dog Molly, too, had risen with the man. She listened, laid back her head, and with eyes raised to the ceiling began a low rumble deep in her throat. It gargled up into a howlish moan, with a crescendo approaching climax, adjusting the wale of the pitch ever so mournfully...


when suddenly it all became clear to me: the emptiness of the ages past, the burden of humanity, the risk taken when the first wolf-dog ventured into the cave from the forest, lured by the warmth of the fire and the smell of cooked meat, thousands of years ago, with no promise of forever or gratitude in return for the devotion, the warnings of approaching dangers, the task of carrying loads both physical and emotional for the man, the work and thrill of cooperating in the hunt -- all for a few bones and the privilege of sleeping near the warmth --


I couldn't help it; I burst out laughing. The spell was broken.


The dog, interrupted in full swing, stopped her lament, and walked over to a corner in the living room where she pawed the carpet, turned around three times, and with a deep sigh, plopped herself down onto the floor and curled into a ball. With a last baleful look at me, she closed her eyes and buried her head into her tail. She retreated into her instincts.


I had been dismissed.


To his credit, Dick, quieted now, turned back to his soggy newspaper with a smile.


I limped into the kitchen for the coffee pot and the pain pill.


Another day had begun at the hearth of the descendants of that first family that banded together eons ago to ward off the perils and pitfalls of living.